


Or Sew It Seams

by PhoenyxNova



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bottom Crowley (Supernatural), Dom/sub Play, Fluff and Smut, Ice Play, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Temperature Play, Top Michael (Supernatural), Top!Michael, Wax Play, bottom!Crowley - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 05:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19370395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenyxNova/pseuds/PhoenyxNova
Summary: Crowley is a moderately successful tailor, with a client (Michael) that doesn't know how to ask him out.





	Or Sew It Seams

It was a quiet enough day in the shop when the bell on the door rang, signifying that there was a customer. In recent days, customers were hard to come by, what with the advent of online ordering. Nowadays, all you had to do was put in your measurements and the suit would already be tailored to fit. Of course, there were still a few people that liked to have their suits custom made, and those customers tended to be quite loyal.

Crowley MacLeod had made a healthy living tailoring, and he had come to know each and every one of his clients. Most of them were wealthy and encouraged their wealthy friends to spread their wealth. Every once in a while, he would have a groom-to-be waltz in, or even the occasional prom goer or two.

The man that walked in, however, was hard to read. He didn’t seem to be as wealthy as his other clients, nor was he young enough to be going to a prom, and he had never bought a _tux_ before so he couldn’t be a groom.

At least, Crowley hoped he wasn’t a groom.

“Good afternoon, Michael,” he called out from the back. He stepped into view, tying his apron around his waist and buttoning his cuffs. “What brings you in today?”

“As if you didn’t know,” Michael teased. “I need a suit.”

“This is your 10th suit this month!” Crowley laughed and straightened his cuffs.

“I don’t think you can prove that.” It wasn’t exactly a habit of his to make the customer feel nervous, but then again, Crowley wasn’t really trying. Michael shuffled his feet and looked at the ground, daring a glance up at the tailor. “Besides, it’s only the 12th.”

“My point exactly,” he said with a wink. To be fair, the tailor didn’t mind one bit. Michael was easy on the eyes, extremely polite (if not adorably so), and _thankfully_ knew what he wanted. He was easy to take care of, which was a nice break from some of his other clients. Not to mention that he was easy on the eyes. See, I mention that twice because you need to understand how attractive Crowley found Michael. “I’m just teasing. What kind of suit do you need?”

Michael awkwardly fingered through the suits already on hangers, but he wasn’t really looking at them. He was just trying to buy some time to figure out what to say. Finally, he stopped in front of a display of ties and regarded them for a moment. “I think I need a few ties,” he said at last. “None of the ties I have seem to go well with the beautiful suits I’ve picked up over the last few months.”

“From anyone I know?” Crowley chuckled, sauntering over to stand near his client. He slid his hands into the pockets of his apron and smirked up at the taller man. “How many suits _have_ you bought from me over the last few months?”

It was Michael’s turn to chuckle, bashfully though it was. He looked down at his feet and shuffled his shoes against the hardwood floor. “I’ve lost count. How awful is that?” He looked at the tailor and smiled that smile that made Crowley grow weak. The look on the other’s face didn’t escape Michael’s attention, either. Instead of calling attention to it, like he so desperately wanted to, he simply smirked and slid his own hands into the pockets of his trousers. He bit his lip thoughtfully, and Crowley couldn’t help but mirror the expression.

“Well, I certainly do appreciate the business,” he said, though he wanted to say so much more.

There was a brief flash of disappointment on Michael’s face as he considered that this could be all their relationship could ever be. Strictly business. However, the expression flitted away as quickly as it had appeared.

But Crowley had seen it before it disappeared. He didn’t like seeing that look on Michael’s face, but he couldn’t be sure why it was there. He offered a smile and gestured to the ties again. “If memory serves, you tend to favor blue suits, am I right?”

“Good memory,” Michael smirked and looked at some of the ties. “What colors should I look for? I’m no good at this sort of thing.”

“Well, that depends. You could go with something on the warmer side of the spectrum for some contrast. Red is always a good choice.” He picked out a red brocade tie with a darker red paisley design, then held it up to Michael’s neck. “Interestingly, blue suits with red ties convey an image of honesty. Makes the people around you feel like you’re more trustworthy. That’s why you see so many politicians wearing it.”

“Well, I’m not that interested in running for public office, so I don’t think I really want to dress like a politician.” Michael smirked again and held up a grey tie. “What about this one?”

“Very good eye! Greys go well with blues.” He indicated his own grey tie, that matched the one Michael held in his hands. “That one might be my favorite of all of them.”

“It must be quality, then!” Michael regarded the tie in his hand for a moment as he tried to decide what his next move would be. He opened his mouth to say something right as Crowley was about to say something, and the two shared a chuckle. “I was just going to say, maybe you can help me pick out a few shirts and ties and maybe a set of suspenders?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a smile. “I’ll just go get a few extras out of the back. I’ll be right back.” Crowley disappeared into the back stock room.

When he didn’t immediately reemerge, Michael inched closer to the curtained off area. He stood on his side of the curtain for what seemed like minutes before he started to step through the fabric barrier.

He ran directly into Crowley. Immediately.

The tailor dropped everything he was carrying in surprise and knelt down to pick the items up. Michael felt a little ashamed that he had been so impatient, and so he crouched down to help Crowley gather the ties and suspenders.

As if they were in a movie, their hands touched, and the two of them looked at each other. Michael with a light blush, and Crowley with a charming smirk.

They looked at each other for a moment before Crowley cleared his throat and stood. Things in hand, he set the ties on the counter in a configuration suitable for a proper display. Michael, still blushing, was following closely. This proved to be his undoing, as Crowley had turned to speak to him, but their lips crashed together.

Michael’s blush only got worse the longer they were connected. Finally, he pulled back and ran his hand through his hair, looking away awkwardly. “I’m sorry about that,” he muttered, trying to do everything he could to look away from the man.

“Sorry for what?” Crowley was more amused than he was upset. In fact, he wasn’t upset at all. He fought the urge to bite his lip as his eyes trailed over his client’s features. God, he really was gorgeous.

“I kissed you just now.”

“Michael, I kissed _you_.” He stepped a little closer and pressed their lips together again, a hand sliding up to rest on the back of the taller man’s neck. “See there? I just did it again.”

Michael’s face turned a darker shade of red, shivers running down his back at the feeling of the tailor’s rough hands against his skin. With a small smirk, he leaned in and kissed Crowley back. “I’m pretty sure that one was me,” he teased.

“Now, now,” Crowley chuckled, brow arched in amusement, “let’s try not to keep score.” He brought the younger man back in for a more gentle kiss before smirking up at him. “How about we get dinner somewhere?”

“Dinner?” Michael was surprised. He wasn’t expecting things to go quite this way. Hoping, yes, but not expecting. He managed a smile, though, honestly just glad things were working out so well. “You want to take me to dinner?”

“Well, the way I see it,” he started, “is that I’ve had my hand between your legs so many times I might _owe_ you dinner. And besides, with you kissing _me_ , I figure this could go one of two ways. Either you say yes and we have a great night, or you say no and continue flirting with me several more months before you finally decide to ask me to dinner with you.”

Michael wanted to argue. He _really_ wanted to argue, even if it was just for the sake of arguing, but he knew he couldn’t. Crowley was right. He was right, and he knew it. With a soft sigh, the customer chuckled and nodded his head. “Alright. You’re on.”

When they arrived at the restaurant later that week, Crowley was dressed to the nines as he usually was. Even Michael had decided to dress up in possibly the nicest suit Crowley had made for him. Not that they weren’t all nice, of course, but this one was the first one he’d received. It was … sentimental, I suppose is the best word for it.

Crowley had ordered the establishment’s finest wine. At least, that’s what he told Michael. The tailor had impeccable taste, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t pick out a decent wine. Michael trusted that whatever he had ordered would be fantastic. Of course, he’d also have been perfectly happy simply going out for a beer with the tailor. Not that he was going to say anything now that they were at one of the nicest restaurants in town. Why ask to have skittles when you could enjoy filet mignon?

“How long have you been a tailor?” Michael asked, cutting into one of the dinner rolls to spread butter on it.

“We don’t have to talk small talk,” Crowley said with a soft chuckle. “I’d much rather get to know you a little better than that. Tell me a little about yourself. I know more about your body than I do anyone else’s, including my own. I’d love to know your mind just as well.”

Michael blushed that familiar blush again and started in on his life story. He was the eldest of four brothers, and his father left when Gabriel was just a baby. He’d had a hard life, trying to care for his brothers while working to support the whole family. Crowley had asked him if he was still in touch with his brothers, and he nodded. Well, it was partly true. Luke had gotten in trouble with the law and Gabriel had run away. He knew where they were, but they hadn’t spoken in years. Ralph was the only one that had stayed close to home, and he really didn’t feel that connected to him

Crowley’s heart, of course, went out to him. He shared his own sob story about how he never knew his father, and his mother abandoned him when he was eight years old. He had to learn how to fend for himself at an early age. He’d had a career in sales for a number of years before marrying and eventually divorcing. His son was a piece of shit, but he missed him now that his mother had full custody. It’s absolutely bonkers how that works, isn’t it?

They talked about everything and nothing until the food came. Crowley’s dinner was comparatively sparse when seen next to Michael’s plate. It made the younger man feel a little bad that he was eating so much when he wasn’t sure if they were getting separate checks. But, of course, Crowley would never have let that happen. Not when he was now convinced Michael was spending every penny he had to flirt with him. He owed him at least dinner. He wanted to give more, but that depended on where the evening led.

Crowley had expected them to eat in awkward silence, but once again Michael surprised him. He seemed to open up more while eating, though that may have been part of the wine’s influence. He wasn’t complaining at all, of course. He was thrilled that Michael was so willing to open up to him. Really, he was elated that Michael had chosen him to come to for suits, otherwise he might never have run into him.

Michael couldn’t help but wonder if the date was going well. He thought it was going quite splendidly, but it was so hard to read Crowley. He couldn’t tell if he was enjoying their time together as much as he was, nor could he tell if Crowley was even passively interested in him. I mean, he had to be a little interested, right? Otherwise he wouldn’t have asked him to dinner.

Crowley, on the other hand, was quietly kicking himself for bringing up the divorce. As far as he was concerned, it could only have one of two effects: Either Michael would lose interest, or he would pity date him. He had never hated his ex-wife more than in this moment. All these years later and she still held some amount of power over him.

Michael nervously picked at his food while they talked, unsure where his usually ample appetite may have gone in the last few minutes. Maybe it was just nerves getting the better of him. After all, Crowley had ordered comparatively little, and he didn’t want to seem like a total glutton. There was that, and the simple fact that finding out the man he was awkwardly flirting with over the past several months was not only divorced, but had a child, and anyone would feel a little uneasy about hearing such a thing, however necessary it was to bring up on a first date.

Then, of course, Michael noticed that Crowley was feeling every bit as awkward as he was, and he could only guess that it had something to do with his previous family. Michael had resolved to try to alleviate some of that awkwardness.

By the time dessert had come around, they were basically out of things they could talk about on a first date, but Michael was as fascinated by Crowley as ever. With every smirk, or twinkle in his eye, Crowley caused a strange warmth to spread in Michael’s chest.

The check came, and Crowley insisted on paying. He reiterated the point he’d made earlier that his client had paid for so many suits, it was the least he could do to pay for dinner. After a moment’s argument, Michael conceded, and they returned to Crowley’s car, a black Bentley Continental with the deepest red ghost flames detailing the sides and the hood. The red was so deep, it was only really visible at just the right angle with just the right light.

Michael whistled a low whistle at the sight of the gorgeous car, and he could have sworn the way the light hit it in the early evening, the flames seemed to come alive. The metallic flakes in the paint danced in the golden sunlight in a way that almost seemed otherworldly.

Crowley opened the door for Michael, who perhaps a little too eagerly slid into the passenger seat. The tailor held back an amused chuckle and walked around to slip into the driver’s side seat.

The drive home was unbearably quiet. But, when they pulled up in front of Michael’s house, the younger man looked hesitant to head inside. He wasn’t sure he wanted the night to end just yet, even if they had sat in an uncomfortable silence for the last 20 or so minutes.

He looked over at Crowley and bit his lip nervously. It was the moment of truth. For both of them. The moment that would decide whether they had a future or if the plane had crashed into the side of the mountain, no survivors. .

“Would you like to come in for a drink?” he asked, hoping the night would hide exactly how nervous he was to be asking that of his tailor.

Whatever Crowley had thought this night was, he had turned out to be wrong. Delightfully wrong. He had almost been sure that, despite their shared kiss, this was strictly a business dinner. That one invitation, however it was intended, gave Crowley the hope that perhaps his past wasn’t totally going to bog down his future. Really, it was the first hope he’d had in years, and he was surprised it came from such an unlikely source as a client. Though, perhaps he should stop thinking of Michael as a client.

Michael was certainly starting to think of Crowley as more than a tailor.

“That sounds delightful,” Crowley admitted. “Are you sure you won’t mind?”

“If I minded, I wouldn’t have invited you inside.” Michael smirked a sly smirk, starting to get his confidence back now that he knew there really was something there. “C’mon. I don’t have much, but what I do have is pretty quality stuff.”

Even if it wasn’t quality, Crowley would have said yes. The more time he spent with Michael, the more he started to think that maybe he didn’t have to be so alone so goddamn always. “Alright,” he conceded finally. “As long as you don’t mind.”

They got inside Michael’s admittedly minimalist apartment. He didn’t much care for too many luxuries, though Crowley might not have guessed that from how many suits he’d had custom made for himself. If he’d stopped to think about it for more than a second, he might have realized Michael was only buying suits so he could spend time with the tailor.

Unfortunately, Crowley was sometimes stupid.

He took a seat on the couch when prompted to do so, and Michael disappeared into the galley kitchen to fetch a couple of beers. When he returned, he took a seat and offered one of the beers to the older man, along with a smile. “I’ve had a great time tonight,” he finally said to break the silence that had once again fallen over them.

“I have, too.” Crowley sipped at the beer, awkwardly fumbling with the bottle. He managed a smile, at the very least to show that he meant it, but it was clear he was nervous. Perhaps it was that they were alone together, but Crowley felt suddenly, extremely self-conscious.

Michael must have sensed Crowley’s trepidation, because he gently drew the tailor’s chin closer to look at him in the eye. He offered a pleasant smile. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the wine _and_ the beer, but he was starting to find his confidence. “Hey, look at me.” When their eyes met, he leaned in and kissed Crowley.

Whatever Crowley might have expected from this evening, it certainly wasn’t this. Not that he was complaining. Quite the opposite, in fact. He leaned into the kiss and returned it in kind. He felt oddly at ease now, now that his fears had been proven to be unfounded.

But Michael wanted more. He wanted so much, and he could tell Crowley was too much of a gentleman to push for it himself. So, he took it upon himself to do all the pushing. He pushed Crowley right back into the arm of the couch, only breaking the kiss to pull his blazer off and toss it onto the nearby armchair.

Surprised though he was, Crowley caught onto what Michael was trying to do. He even allowed himself a smirk as he slid his own jacket off his shoulders, capturing the other man’s lips with his own once more.

Reluctantly, Michael pulled away from the kiss, that blush returning to his cheeks as he tried to put his request into words. “Why don’t we … quality test the ties I bought from you?” He leaned in and kissed at Crowley’s neck, gently capturing his earlobe with his teeth and whispering sweetly into the tailor’s ear. “Let’s see how well they can hold a grown man down.”

Crowley shivered with delight, hand sliding up Michael’s back and tangling into his hair. “The question for the ages, though, is which grown man would they be holding down?”

Michael smirked, clearly finding his confidence in his answer. “Why don’t you come to the bedroom with me and find out?” He got up and led the tailor down the hall, into the bedroom. Crowley stepped inside to admire the few decorations there were, and the younger man shut the door behind them. Before either of them knew what was happening, Michael had grabbed Crowley and kissed him with such passion, the clothier’s knees grew weak.

Soon enough, Crowley felt the bed hit the back of his calves, but Michael had pushed him a little further. He toppled backward, and suddenly Michael’s hands were all over him, loosening his tie, pulling off his belt, undoing his pants, and all at once, he was undressed. Michael stood at the edge of the bed, admiring Crowley’s form with a smirk.

“Spread ‘em,” he said with an oddly commanding voice.

Crowley spared no time in stretching out his arms and legs. The younger man withdrew two ties from his drawer and tied the needle worker’s arms to the frame of the bed. In fact, he tied him down so perfectly, Crowley was left to marvel at the skill it took to tie such perfect knots without sacrificing comfort. “You’ve done this before,” he mused.

Michael slowly stripped his own clothes, putting on a show for the clothier with a smirk of satisfaction as he watched the other’s need for him rise. He turned and headed for his dresser, reaching in and taking out another tie, then returned to tie it around Crowley’s eyes.

The tailor smirked and chuckled low in his chest. “I’m going to want to see _you_ eventually. You know that, right?”

“I know,” he purred into Crowley’s ear, sending a shiver down the clothier’s spine. “I’m counting on it.” He leaned in to kiss at the other’s neck before disappearing from his side again. When he returned, he straddled the other man and Crowley whined when he felt cloth against him. Michael hadn’t taken off all his clothes yet. Michael smirked and set his basket of goodies down on the bed next to them. “Hot or cold?”

“Hot,” Crowley replied after a moment’s thought. Being blindfolded, he really couldn’t tell what was about to happen, but he had a vague idea. “Hot, and then cold.”

Michael smirked, gently smoothing a thin layer of oil over Crowley’s chest, rubbing it gently into his chest hair. Soon enough, there was the sound of a lighter flicking to life as he lit a low temperature candle. He let the wick burn for a few moments, and Crowley was already squirming with anticipation. Finally, as the wax started to melt, he tilted the candle just slightly so it would drip down onto the tailor’s chest.

As soon as he felt the warm wax, Crowley inhaled sharply and rocked his hips up to search for even the tiniest bit of friction. His arms tugged at the restraints, but they were so expertly tied that it made little difference.

The candle burned down to barely a stump, and by that time, Crowley’s chest, arms, neck, and stomach had a thin layer of wax drippings over them. Michael reached into his basket and withdrew a slightly melted ice cube. He traced Crowley’s profile with the slick cube and began lazily drawing patterns onto his chest. He took such pride in making the tailor squirm, he couldn’t help his smirk. Not that Crowley would see it anyway, through his blindfold.

Michael dropped the ice cube into a glass of water and moved down the other’s body, peppering his flesh with tender kisses as he slowly made his way down to Crowley’s length, twitching in need. Getting a closer look at it, he wasn’t sure if he could fit the whole thing in his mouth, but he was certainly going to try. He ghosted his tongue from base to tip, pulling a low groan from deep in the tailor’s chest.

Crowley rutted his hips upward, hoping to find more of that delicious friction, but he found himself disappointed. Michael had, as soon as Crowley started searching for more, backed off of his touches and caresses. Watching Crowley writhe in frustration was enough for him. For now, anyway.

“Bugger it all,” Crowley muttered. “Are you waiting for me to beg?”

“I rather think I am,” Michael chimed, unable to stop himself from chuckling. “It’s up to you. I could keep going, or I could _keep going._ ”

“Bollocks,” the tailor whined, his cock twitching once more in want of being touched. “ _Please._ ” He rasped out. “I need you to touch me. I need to see you. I need _you_.”

That seemed to placate Michael well enough. He smirked and ran his hands up Crowley’s thighs. Even this simple act was enough to cause the clothier to groan. One hand slid all the way up to slide the blindfold off of the other’s head so Crowley could watch his length disappear into Michael’s mouth. He inhaled sharply, lost in the sensation of the wet warmth surrounding his cock.

As much as he wanted to watch his lover suck him off, he had been deprived of touch for just long enough that his eyes rolled back into his head, fluttering shut as he let out a soft groan. He could feel it when Michael’s cheeks hollowed, when he swallowed around him, when he sucked softly from base to tip, then back down again. It didn’t take long for him to crack. He rocked his hips up to meet Michael’s lips, softly groaning, “Fuck me, Michael.”

With a soft ‘pop’, Michael withdrew his mouth from Crowley’s length and he smirked an almost coy smirk. He reached back into his basket and pulled out a small bottle of lube. He squirted some of its contents onto his tip and coated his cock with the slick liquid. Crowley bit his lip as he watched this, and spread his legs a little further, tilting his hips up slightly.

Michael placed himself at Crowley’s tight entrance and leaned in to kiss the tailor, a surprisingly tender kiss considering … well, everything. When the needle worker returned the kiss in kind, Michael pushed past the ring of muscle and buried himself to the hilt in his lover. “So tight for me,” he purred.

After allowing a moment for both of them to adjust, Michael adopted a steady pace. The two of them rutted together, Crowley tugging once again at his restraints. Breathy pleas spilled from his lips for Michael to fuck him faster, harder, anything to make him scream the other’s name. Eventually, Michael did comply. He rocked his hips hard enough that the headboard started smacking against the wall behind it. Neither of them paid it any mind. They couldn’t bring themselves to care. Especially not Michael.

Crowley’s hands contorted and grabbed a hold of the restraints that held him. Michael leaned down and sank his teeth into the tailor’s neck, sucking a dark mark into his flesh. He pulled back to admire his work as he reached between the two of them and started stroking the other’s length.

The clothier was completely blissed out. His senses were working overtime to keep up with the sensations he was feeling. He wanted so badly to tangle his fingers into Michael’s hair. To pull him down into a passionate kiss. For now, he would have to settle for wrapping his legs around the younger man, attempting to spur him on into moving even more. “Fuck, Michael.”

Hearing his name falling from the other’s lips, dripping with lust, was almost overwhelming. As if he could tell exactly what Crowley wanted to do, he laced his fingers into the other’s disheveled hair and tugged him roughly into a fiery kiss. His hand continued to work Crowley’s length in time with his own movements. He couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading in his chest as he slowly started to realize the reality of the situation. The man he liked – no, loved – was in his bed, calling out his name.

Crowley was feeling a similar warmth. He had been dying to ask Michael out for months – since the first day he’d stepped foot into his shop. Now, here he was, getting fucked senseless by a man he was sure he didn’t deserve. Whether or not that was true, he was sure he didn’t want to be anywhere else. His lips separated from Michael’s, only to connect with the other’s neck, almost reverently sucking a mark of his own into Michael’s skin.

It was almost too much for him. Michael’s hips stuttered a moment. He was getting close. Still leaned in close to Crowley’s ear, he growled in barely more than a whisper, “Come for me.”

Hearing those words were enough to send the tailor over the edge. His release hit him hard. Hard enough that he could swear he was sweating. His breath was ragged, and eventually hitched in his throat when he felt Michael’s release warm him from the inside.

The younger man rode out his climax until the both of them were spent. He leaned back and saw what a mess Crowley was. Oil and wax, sweat and water, and cum all covered his chest. Michael reluctantly separated himself from Crowley and disappeared into the adjacent bathroom, reappearing a short time later with a cool, wet rag.

And so began the tender process of cleaning his lover. He peppered sweet kisses to Crowley’s chest, arms, neck, anywhere he could reach. If he had cleaned it, he had kissed it. After a few minutes, the tailor was satisfactorily cleaned, and Michael finally untied him.

Had he more energy, he might have thrown his arms around the younger man and brought him in for a kiss. As it was, he did basically that but, like, with a low battery. He kissed Michael lovingly, affectionately, as though he may never kiss another person again. As far as he was concerned, he wasn’t going to. Michael was all he needed.

Michael chuckled and kissed him back. “So, does this mean I get the friends and family discount?”

Crowley laughed and brushed his thumb against the other’s cheek. “I’d say you get the boyfriend discount.”

“What’s that?”

“Absolutely anything – and I mean _anything_ – you want, unquestionably free.” Crowley smirked and kissed Michael once again.


End file.
